


Bit Player

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [82]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joyce deals with the aftermath of how “Potential” should have gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bit Player

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published September 22, 2005
> 
> Thank you to [](http://sadbhyl.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sadbhyl.livejournal.com/)**sadbhyl** for giving me perspective on my writing and realizing my feelings of “meh” are coming from the fact that I spent far too long working on one paragraph.

Joyce enjoyed the relative quiet of the front porch, lounging on the porch love seat as she watched the night. It was rare to go anywhere in the house these days and not have at least one other person there. And tonight, more than ever, she needed some time by herself.

Her youngest had been marked as a potential.

Buffy was the Slayer. It had taken her awhile, but Joyce had finally accepted that and all it entailed. She didn’t like it, she never would like it—but she accepted it. What choice did she have?

But not Dawn. Dawn was supposed to be safe from all of this. Having been the Key should have made her exempt. Wasn’t there some unwritten rule about only great life-threatening destiny per person? There really should be.

Joyce gave a start when tumbler of ice and amber liquid suddenly appeared in her line of sight.

Ethan gave her a small, apologetic smile. “Thought you could use a little something to take the edge off.”

“It won’t help,” she said as she took the glass and studied it. “But it won’t hurt either.”

The cool liquid seared a trail down her throat as she took a long, grateful sip. She closed her eyes and focused on the warmth that settled in her stomach, briefly alleviating the lead weight that had settled there.

She felt the cushions give as he sat next to her.

“This is from Rupert’s supply, isn’t it?” she asked, not needing his quiet chuckle for answer. While she was a fan of scotch, Joyce wasn’t willing to pay out the money Rupert did for top shelf. “You know how much he hates that.”

“All the more reason for me to do it,” he replied. “Though, can he really accuse me of taking from his stores when there are at least a dozen other likely suspects?”

“I highly doubt any of the girls are going to take his scotch. Besides, you and I are the only ones who know where he keeps it.”

“True. But you, my dear, are the one drinking it, not I.”

“Ethan,” she said evenly, looking at him.

“What?”

“If you ever grew up, I think I’d be worried.”

“Maturity is highly overrated,” he grinned, the lines around his eyes crinkling pleasantly. God, but he was a gorgeous man. And a good man, little as he believed it.

They sat silently after that, Joyce sipping her drink, and Ethan sitting quietly next to her.

Her brief reprieve from her present concerns was interrupted as sounds of the girls sparring carried over from the backyard. Dawn was one of them now, training to fight, to protect herself from Bringers. In truth, it really wasn’t all that different from what she had been doing with Buffy all summer. But then again, it was. This was no longer self-defense against the things that went bump in the Sunnydale night. It was preparation for war.

Joyce shivered. War. That what this was, wasn’t it?

“I should have moved to Cleveland,” she said hopelessly.

“There’s a hellmouth there as well, you know,” Ethan pointed out. “Plus you would be in Ohio, which I can assure you is a place no one in their right mind wants to live. Trust me, you are far better off in Sunnydale, apocalypses and all.”

She ignored his humor. “It’s not fair, Ethan. I can’t bear to lose them both to this.”

“Is Dawn really in any more danger than she was before she was found out?”

“What do you mean?” She narrowed her eyes in frustration. “Of course she is!”

“We’re all in danger, Joyce. Every single one of us. Have been since . . . well, it seems like forever. But we’re all involved in this. You’ve seen the Bringers in action, how indiscriminate they are. Potential or no, if Dawn got in their way, they wouldn’t want to kill her any less.”

His words hit her like a physical blow.

“This is different,” she protested weakly.

“No, Joyce, it really isn’t. And harsh as it is to say, at least now she has a real reason for being in this fight, not just pulled into it by virtue of her sister and friends’ roles in it.”

He had a point. She saw that, she really did. But . . . “Why does it always seem like it’s all or nothing?” Joyce asked him mournfully.

Ethan’s brow furrowed in thought as he considered her question, his eyes taking on a far away look. When he spoke, there was a bitterness in his voice that she hadn’t expected. “Because the Powers or the gods or whatever forces influence our lives never do so by half-measures. For the important things, the ones you really care about, it has to be all or nothing.”

“I don’t understand.” She studied him in confusion. She hadn’t really expected an answer from him; the question had been rhetorical.

That seemed to bring him back to himself. “It made more sense in my head,” he apologized. “I think what I meant to say is that fate, destiny, what have you, is indiscriminate in how it affects us. It doesn’t give a damn what we’ve been through already or what we’ve given.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Now you understand why I leave the comforting up to Rupert. I’m too jaded to do anything but fail miserably at it.”

Joyce took his hand in hers. “If it helps, you were doing a pretty good job up until the end,” she said lightly, trying to take the edge off.

He squeezed her hand. “I’ll stick to providing the alcohol and keep my mouth shut, how’s that sound?”

“I’m not one to drown my sorrows,” she rattled the ice in her empty glass, “but I don’t think I would say no to a refill.”

“As my lady requests.” He kissed the hand that held his, then rose and took the glass from the other.

Joyce lay back against the cushions as Ethan left her, his cryptic words running through her head. They actually made a certain kind of sense, but what kind of sense, she couldn’t say.

On some level, she supposed, she should feel blessed that the governing forces in the world found her daughters so important. Mother to not one, but two warriors. Two remarkable young women who she loved dearly and wanted nothing more than to keep safe. But she couldn’t keep them safe. It was her natural instinct, but one she couldn’t act upon. She hadn’t been able to protect them for a long time. All she could do is sit back and hope for the best.

And as the kids would say, it sucked. A lot.

Joyce hated feeling so useless. But that’s what she was in this fight. Useless. Her daughters, Buffy’s friends, the other potentials, even her own lovers all had something they could contribute. But she had nothing useful to give. Except her daughters. And her home.

Suddenly, Joyce hoped that Ethan thought to bring the whole bottle back with him.  



End file.
